


There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays

by ThisWasInevitable



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Based on a prompt fill, Christmas Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Rating May Change, TAZ-Amnesty, Trans Duck Newton, Winter, indruck, rating is for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21914035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasInevitable/pseuds/ThisWasInevitable
Summary: As a favor, Duck Newton agrees to pretend to be his friend Indrid's boyfriend while he visits his family for the holidays.Surely, the fact that he has a crush on Indrid will cause no complications at all.(This was based on a winter prompt fill that multiple people requested I expand on. Even if you've read it, you'll want to start from chapter 1)
Relationships: Indrid Cold/Duck Newton
Comments: 9
Kudos: 129





	1. The Favor

“DUCK I NEED HELP!”

Duck’s used to his neighbor and friend entering his house without knocking. After all, he does much the same to him. But the panicked tone is enough to send him tumbling off the couch, narrowly missing the coffee table.

“Ow, what’s up, ‘Drid?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Indrid drops to the floor to check on him, even as Duck waves his hand dismissively to show he’s fine, “I’m just, it’s, I realized another horrible part of Derrick dumping me.” 

Duck sits up, facing his friend as the thinner man continues, “The few times I spoke with my parents since we were dating, I bragged about how wonderful he was. Goodness knows they’d criticized me enough for everything else, at the very least it felt nice to tell them my relationship was going well. And now I get to go home in a week for the holidays, without the wonderful boyfriend I told them all I had. It’s going to make everything worse, it will be yet one more thing they can pick at.”

Duck nods sympathetically. He’d been the first person Indrid told about the break up, Derrick leaving him abruptly two weeks ago. Apparently, he’d been dating someone else at the same time without telling Indrid, all with the end goal of deciding which man made the better partner.

Indrid learned he was not the winner over the phone. He was, according to his now ex-boyfriend, too much work for how much he was worth.

Duck keeps hoping to run into the guy so he can give him a piece of his mind (and tell him to be glad it’s Duck, and not Aubrey, who’s confronting him because she is pissed). 

Indrid is weird, sure. He can be absentminded, messy, leave sketches scattered across his floor for weeks. He once played the same Kate Bush song on a loop (Duck heard it through the heating vents) for twelve hours in order to finish a project, and Duck never wants to hear that song again. But he’s funny, thoughtful, and Duck has pictured him without clothes more than once. He’s wondered, from the bed that shares a wall with Indrid’s own, what it would be like if it was him drawing the high, faintly cracked noises from the thinner, pale-haired man, rather than his boyfriend. 

But more than any of that Duck always gets a strange sense of belonging when he comes home in the evening and sees Indrid’s apartment lit beside his own, still dark one. Indrid is home, next door, and that means things will be okay. 

Duck would have given anything to be in Derricks place. 

“Duck, I need you to come with me and pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Duck should have put some specifications on that statement.

“‘Drid, you full well I can’t lie well enough to pull that off. And ain’t they gonna notice I’m nothin’ like the guy you told ‘em about?”

“I kept everything vague to decrease the chances of them finding something to disapprove of. They barely know a thing about you, so you won’t need to lie, Duck, please I’ll,” Indrid’s gaze darts around the room, his red glasses sitting on his forehead allowing Duck to enjoy the light brown of his eyes, “I’ll design your next tattoo for free, I’ll pay both our internet bills for a year, I’ll, ah, I’ll-”

“Whoah, whoah, ‘Drid, you ain't got to do anythin like that. We’re friends, we help each other out.” Duck rests a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

“So you’ll do it?” Indrid bites the inside of his lip.

“How long would it be?”

“Five days, six if we hit bad weather coming back up here. That wouldn’t take you away from work too long, would it? Or do they expect the part time rangers to cover the holidays?”

“Nah, the center is closed on Christmas. And I’m pretty sure Juno wants a few extra hours anyway. I’ll ask to be sure, but think I oughta be able to get the time off.” He looks back at Indrid’s face. There are bags under his eyes, the result of the semester and graveyard shifts at a coffee shop. His strange, wide smile is tentatively trying to spread across his face. It’s the first time since the break-up that he’s looked the least bit hopeful. 

“Yeah, what the hell, can’t let my friend be lonesome for the holidays.”

Indrid makes a delighted noise, flapping his hands, “Thank you!” He throws his arms around Duck, and Duck returns the hug. Indrid loves his hugs (most people love Duck’s hugs, but Indrid’s opinions of things tends to take up extra space in his mind). 

He’s doing his friend a favor, and that makes the fact this is a terrible idea worth the risk. And hey, five days paling around with his friend in some fancy seaside town will be fun.

\-----------------------------------------------

_Juno: You know that’s a terrible idea, right?_

_Juno: Pretending to date Indrid is going to make for one heartbroken Duck and you know it._

_Duck: It’ll be fine_

_Juno: How long have you had a crush on him again?_

_Duck: A year. And we stayed friends the whole time because I fucking knew when to keep it to myself. And I can keep keeping it to myself because his friendship means more to me than my fucking dick._

_Juno: …….._

_Juno:...... Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you_

Duck tosses the phone on the bed as he finishes packing his suitcase. Yes, he’s had a crush on Indrid for awhile. And yes, by the time he realized just how intense the crush was, Indrid was in a relationship that made him happy, and the strength of the crush was overwhelmed by the desire to not make Indrid’s life harder. So Duck kept those feelings to himself, focused on being Indrid’s friend, a real friend, including putting in a good word on his behalf to their landlord so he could get the little studio apartment next to Duck’s one-bedroom. 

Who knows, maybe spending so much time in close proximity will get rid of the crush….

\-------------------------------------

……………. _Or it will make it ten times stronger_ Duck muses during his turn at the wheel. It’s the west coast, so there’s no snow, but rain patters on the windshield as they drive down I-5. Indrid is humming along with the playlist he put on, a mixture of dark folk for Indrid and metal or alt for Duck, while finishing up the last of the meal they grabbed from Dairy Queen. He’s been intermittently hand feeding Duck fries so he can keep driving. 

He also eagerly licks the spoon while eating his Blizzard and Duck is afraid he might hit the guard rail if he doesn’t stop staring. He needs to think about something else, and fast.

_“Duck, I need your opinion.”_

_“Shoot.” Duck turns on the futon, finds Indrid holding up two hangers; one with a grey button up, the other with a striped pink and yellow sweater._

_“Which of these is more appropriate date attire?”_

_“Depends, where are you two goin?”_

_“Just coffee and a movie.”_

_“Sweater should be fine. Besides, ain’t that one of your favorites? It’s your lucky colors and everythin.”_

_“Yes. But, well, I am begining to fear I am not making enough of an effort. Derrick has been commenting more and more on how other men are dressed when we’re out.”_

_Duck fights back a disapproving noise. His rule is that he won’t criticize Derrick in front of Indrid, out of a fear that his own feelings for his friend might color his words and fuck up a relationship that’s making him happy._

_“It is a bit drab.” Indrid holds the grey shirt against his body, then snaps his fingers, “I know, I can copy the sweater colors onto my nails. That works, right?”_

_“Don’t see why not.” Duck smiles._

_“Do my right hand for me?”_

_“Of course”_

“How did we meet?” Indrid asks somewhere near Sacramento, snapping Duck from his juggling act of reminiscing and navigating traffic. 

“Uh, think Dani introduced us, right?”

Indrid nods, “That’s what I thought. We’ll need to have our story straight, but it seems easiest just to describe our relationship as truthfully as possible.”

“You mean we ain’t tellin ‘em we me when I rescued you from an evil goat?”

Indrid “humphs” crossing his arms, “I did not expect to be tackled at the petting zoo. But I appreciated the rescue all the same.”

“Thought Aubrey was gonna wet her pants laughin at you.” Duck giggles at the memory of Indrid flat on his back with an extremely hungry goat on top of him. Duck lured it away with some goat treats, doubled over with laughter the entire time.

They run through increasingly ridiculous things to tell Indrids family; that they met on a botched bank robbery, they got trapped in an elevator together, their characters fell in love during a game of D&D and it spread out into their real lives, and so on until Indrid is cackling with glee. It would be so easy, feel so natural to reach over and squeeze his hand or stroke his face as they both come down from their giggling fits, but Duck knows better than to trap his friend in a car with unwanted affection.

By the time they reach Carmel, it’s well after ten at night. Indrid drives the last leg, explaining that the house numbers can be tricky to see in the darkness. They arrive at a stately three story house four blocks from the beach.

“Right.” Indrid sits in the front seat, cat key in his hand and engine off but no signs of desire to reach for the door, “here goes nothing.”

They carry their bags up to the house, which is dark save for the porch light. Once they’re inside, Indrid slips off his shoes, Duck following suit and immediately spotting why.

“Who has this much white carpet?”

“My parents.” Indrid grumbles. 

They tiptoe towards the stairs, and in spite of the fact they’re expected guests, Duck feels like they’re teenagers slipping in after curfew. Everything is shades of white, ivory, or beige, and with the exception of the family photos on the walls, the building could easily be mistaken for a model of a house, rather than a space people live. The bedroom Indrid leads them to is equally bland as everything else.

“My, they really did take it all down.” Indrid sighs, setting his suitcase on the floor.

“This was your room?”

“Yes. I wonder what they did with all the art and posters. I took what I could with me when I left for school, but there was plenty that I left behind that I liked a great deal. Though, I would bet a months rent that all of Brad's trophies are still on display somewhere in the house.” He sighs as he changes into his pajamas, white tank top and rubber-ducky patterned pants, then slides under the floral bedspread. 

Duck didn’t bring pajamas. He sleeps in his boxers.

“Um” He points at himself in an attempt to indicate the problem. Indrid goes completely still, looking him up and down.

“It’s alright, Duck. That doesn’t bother me. Come on” he pats the mattress, flipping back the covers, “I’m cold and you’re a space heater disguised as a man.”

Duck snorts,settles beside him, “No, you’re just an icicle that got an art degree.”

Indrid barks out a laugh, sets his glasses on the bedside table “Touche. Goodnight, Duck.”

“Night, Drid.”

The light goes out and Duck nestles under the covers. Should he roll over so his back is to Indrid? No, that might seem like he’s hiding something. But rolling towards him could be too much, seem like this is real instead of a trick they’re playing.

“Duck?” Indrid whispers.

“Yeah?” He rolls over, finds Indrid on his side facing him. Duck never ceases to be surprised by how much younger he looks without his glasses on.

“Thank you. For coming with me. The, the next few days may be a bit awkward.”

“‘Drid, I wasn’t expectin anythin else. Not after eveythin you’ve told me about your folks.”

“I know but, well.” Indrid takes his hand, toying with his fingers, “I’m sorry in advance for anything they say. Or do. Or imply. Or-”

“‘Drid.” Duck takes their joined hands, holds them against his chest, “You ain’t gotta apologize to me for shit they might do. I knew what I was gettin into when I agreed to this.”

“Thank you.” Indrid says again. He looks so tired. 

“Go to sleep, icicle.”

Indrid smiles in the darkness, and shuts his eyes. He keeps his hand in Ducks, humming softly when Duck pulls the larger quilt over them. Their hands stay linked as Duck sinks, first into the pillows and then into a deep sleep. 

\-----------------------------------------------

Indrid towels himself off absentmindedly, eyeing the china-shop decor of his once lovely room. Duck volunteered to venture downstairs in search of coffee for them (Indrid trusts three people to make his coffee sweet enough: himself, his friend Barclay, and Duck). Indrid woke up first this morning, found Ducks head resting against his shoulder. He took his time studying the lines of his face, wondering if Duck would let Indrid draw him. Ideally, nude. 

Maybe asking his friend who he has a raging crush on to join him was a bad idea. 

He’d realized his feelings for Duck about four months ago. But he was happy with Derrick, and knew it was common to get crushes on people even when dating someone. Besides, he and Duck were close friends; Duck made him feel safe, didn’t judge him for his quirks, was funny and charming in his own quiet way. So what if he occasionally pictured him while masturbating, imagining what it felt like to kiss him on every inch of his body?

There’d been a temptation to ask Duck in the days after the break up. But his friend would no doubt assume Indrid was treating him as a rebound, and Duck deserved to feel truly wanted. Now it might be too late. 

_“I just wish I knew what I was doing wrong. Every time I’ve texted him this week I’ve gotten a few words back.”_

_“Maybe he’s just real busy.” Duck sips his coffee, back against his couch as he sits on the floor. His notes and Indrid’s sketches for his final projects are spread across the table between them._

_“I...I suppose that’s a possibility. It is coming up on the end of the semester.” He clears his throat, shy. He didn’t mean to spill his guts on the table, but Duck makes him feel like he can talk about anything._

_“So, ah, what about you? Any luck on the dating front?”_

_Duck shrugs, “Been on a couple, all duds except for one, and that’s mostly because he had the manners to ask if I wanted head after I blew him.”_

_Envy colors Indrid’s vision, and even as he blinks it away he’s denying that it meant anything at all. Duck is just his friend, and he cannot feel jealous of someone else seeing him for the catch he is._

The door swings open and Duck shuts it quickly behind him.

“This place is a fuckin labyrinth.”

Indrid chuckles, “Couldn’t find the kitchen?”

“No! Thank fuck we got a bathroom attached to this place or I’d go for a leak and you’d never fuckin see me again.”

“If it’s any consolation, you don’t need to worry about a Minotaur unless my brother is up.”

A silver bell rings and Duck blinks, “Does your family use a fuckin dinner bell?”

“Yes.” Indrid finishes dressing as Duck checks his hair in the mirror, “and it means it’s time to face the Colds.” He holds out his hand, “stay close; I’d hate to lose you in the maze.” 

Duck hesitates, then grabs his hand, and they head downstairs. Duck’s hands are always so warm, a bit calloused from working outdoors more in the last few months, and Indrid asks whatever divine force might be listening to make it so that he doesn’t have to let go of this hand for the next few days. 

Or that his whole family be struck by some sleeping sickness until the holidays are over. 

No such luck.

“Is that really what you’re wearing out today?” His mother asks when they appear. 

“Hello to you as well.” He and Duck sit side by side, and he only relinquishes Ducks hand in order to pass dishes. 

“So,” His father eyes Duck, the scrutiny in the gaze making Indrid wince automatically, “you’re Indrid’s boyfriend.”

“Yep. Name’s Duck, and it’s real nice to meet y’all.”

Brad, his brother, snorts, “Duck?”

“It’s a nickname, oh, thanks darlin.” He smiles when Indrid hands him a cup of coffee. 

“Indrid says you’re interested in...environmental science, yes?” His father continues. 

“More or less. Done a lot of work in forestry and botany and such. Goal is to be a full time ranger in a national park of somethin.”

“I don’t know why we even have those; why the fuck are we preserving a bunch of trees when that land could help enrich the economy.”

“Shut up, Brad.” Indrid glares. 

“Indrid, manners. Besides, your brother has a point. All that land could be a boon for mining and development,”

“With all due respect, uh, Mr.Cold, public lands are one of the best ideas we’ve had as a country. And they bring in lots of money to places that wouldn’t get it otherwise. Hell, back home in Kepler, most of the money comes from tourists visitin the national forest.” Duck chews his eggs thoughtfully, “Plus, screwin nature only comes back to bite us in the end.”

“At least it has a potential job that comes after it.” His mother stares pointedly at him and Indrid groans.

The rest of breakfast goes much the same, and Indrid pulls Duck from the table as soon as he’s done eating. 

“Right, that was awful.” Indrid sinks onto his bed. 

“And you didn’t eat anythin.”

“I had toast.” Indrid snips back. 

“One piece. Come on, darlin, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my sugar starve?” Duck catches the pet name this time, coughs, “sorry, figured better to keep it up in the house, in case someone can hear us.”

Right, of course. Duck’s being practical. He doesn’t really think of Indrid as his darling. 

“Somewhere in town you like to eat at?” Duck settles beside him, voice gentle, “It’s okay if there ain’t. Can even brave the labyrinth and grab you leftovers if you need me to.”

Indrid meets his eyes, and gingerly rests his head on his shoulder, “Well, there is one place…”

\------------------------------------------------------------

The outdoor mall is obscenely cheery, Christmas trees covered in shiny baubles and carols blasting from storefronts. Signs tout the perfect gift for that special someone, and Duck imagines himself wandering from salesperson to salesperson until he finds the thing that could show Indrid just how much he cares about him. Corporate brainwashing or not, he can’t shake the appeal of finding something that makes Indrid burst into that strange smile of his. 

After a leisurely breakfast in a tiny, scruffy cafe (indeed, the only scruffy store amidst the pristine, wealth soaked chains and boutiques) in which Indrid scarfed two cinnamon rolls the size of his head, they wander arm in arm, window shopping and people watching. Indrid relaxes incrementally, and keeps casting strange, affectionate glances Ducks way. 

In spite of the chilly weather, they opt to go to the beach, finding it mostly deserted. Indrid shows him a patch of tide pools, and proceeds to ask a dozen questions about what he’s seeing. Duck does his best to play park ranger, though ocean life isn’t his specialty. 

“Oooh, hello little friend.” Indrid is on his stomach, leaning over one of the pools with a hermit crab in his hand, “your shell is so pretty.”

“Uh, ‘Drid, you might wanna keep an eye on that-”

_Splash_

“Wave.” Duck tries not to laugh at his friend, who now looks like a surprised, damp cat. 

“Oh dear.” Indrid looks at his soaked top half and shudders, “that is going to be unpleasant to walk home in.” 

“Here, take those off.” Duck unzips and doffs his jacket, unbuttons his green shirt and hands it to the taller man, “That oughta help until we get back.”

Indrid, skinny and shivering, takes the shirt and slips it on. His fingers fumble and Duck steps forward and begins buttoning it for him. 

“You don’t-” Indrid starts

“I want to” Duck finishes. When he buttons the last one, he looks up and finds their noses nearly brushing. Breathes in time with the surf in hopes of quieting his heart.

“We should head back.” Indrid murmurs.

“Yeah.” Duck drops his gaze, taking a step back, “lead the way, darlin.”

Indrid hops off the rock onto the sand, offering his hand to Duck so he can do the same. Duck supposes they don’t need to hold hands on the empty beach. 

They end up holding them all the way back to the house. 

\------------------------

It all comes to a head at dinner the next night. 

“This is low even for you, bro.” Brad grins.

Indrid rolls his eyes, “What is?”

“Bringing a fake boyfriend because your skinny ass got dumped.”

The little bit Indrid’s eaten threatens to come back up. Duck is still, save for the chewing on the inside of his lip.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Indrid responds coolly. 

“Friend of a friend on Insta said in a group text knows your ex.” Brad looks over at their mother, “Apparently Indrid is too stupid to know when he’s being strung along, and too much of a dud to actually keep the guy.”

His mother sniffs derisively, as if she’s not shocked in the slightest.

“In that case” His father turns to Duck, “how did you end up involved in this?”

“Probably paid him.” Brad sips his beer and Indrid growls. 

“Actually” Duck says quietly, “I came because Indrid asked me to. Couldn’t say no to the most amazin guy I know. Just cause we ain’t had time to put a label on things don’t mean I ain’t crazy about him. And for your information” he stares down Brad, “that ‘skinny ass’ is the nicest lookin ass on the entire coast, and you are the shittiest siblin I’ve ever had the displeasure of meetin.”

“How dare you?” His mother hisses and Indrid takes that opportunity to bolt. As he’s halfway to the front door he hears Duck drawl, “Mama always said money can’t buy class. Thanks for the real time demonstration.”

He probably shouldn’t abandon Duck, but his friend is proving completely capable of handling himself, and if Indrid doesn’t get away from this whole mess, Duck included, he is going to make the kind of fool of himself that will become the stuff of family legend, to be mocked forever more, and also ruin his friendship. 

Duck calls something after him, but he’s too far down the street to hear what it is. He thinks of turning around, of at least telling him he’ll come back, to not worry about him. Instead, he heads into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We now have an fantastic piece of fanart for this! https://thiswasinevitableid.tumblr.com/post/190207907360/im-screaming-thank-you-so-much


	2. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck meets an aunt with an unusual name. Indrid gets fancy.

He’s lost him. 

He was just trying to stick up for his friend and now he’s _lost him_. 

Duck dashes upstairs, praying that Indrid left his key-ring in the bedroom. Finds it sitting on the dresser, grabs it along with his jacket and is back out onto the landing. He doesn’t give a shit how annoyed the rest of the family is with him right now; all that matters is finding Indrid and apologizing for causing a scene. 

He’s halfway down the staircase when the front door opens and he’s already gearing up to apologize when he sees it’s not Indrid who opened it. 

Standing in the entryway is a woman in full length duster, streaks of grey in her dark hair and a bulldog that looks like a barrel on legs by her side. As she removes her boots, the dog spots Duck and bounds towards him, tongue lolling out of it’s mouth.

“Butch, sit.” 

The dog skids to a stop and sits, whole body waggling, a foot in front of Duck. 

“Uh, hey there, buddy.” Duck scratches the dogs head, causing it to wiggle and bump into his legs, “Nice to meet you too.”

“Huh, wasn’t expectin another drawl in this house.” The woman looks him over, and Duck gets the sense he’s being evaluated, though not as distastefully as he’s been by the rest of the family. 

“Madeline, what a surprise! We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.” Duck recognizes the expression on Mrs. Colds face. It’s the one Indrid makes when he knows he’s supposed to smile but really doesn’t want to. 

“That’s strange. Told Richard I was comin a day early, since both nephews would be here.”

Indrid’s father responds to his wife's annoyed look with a defensive one.

“Aunt Maddie, it’s so nice to see you.” Brad beams with a politicians smile. 

“You too, Brad. But remember, only Thacker calls me Maddie.”

“I take it he’s not with you.” Mr. Cold peers out the door hopefully. 

“Nope, vistin' his daughter.”

“ _Adoptive_ daughter you mean.” Brad adds. 

“I know what I said.” The woman turns back to Duck, “Guessin that makes you Indrid’s boyfriend.”

“Yes ma’am. Duck Newton, pleased to meet you Mrs, uh” Duck extends his hand.

“Cobb, but don’t bother with that none. Just call me Mama. Most people do.”

“In spite of the fact you’re not a mother.” Mrs. Cold mutters. Mama ignores her. 

“Indrid ain’t here is he.” It’s not a question, nor does Mama seem surprised when Duck nods. 

“He had one of his outbursts.” Brad pipes up.

Duck glares, “Only cause you baited ‘im.” 

Brad is about to snap back when Mama slaps a hand on Ducks shoulder, “Well, guess I’ll see him when he comes back. Now come on, help an old lady with her luggage.” She nods to the battered brown suitcase. Duck grabs it, while Mama reaches down and scoops Butch up like he weighs nothing. 

He follows her down the hallway and into a guest room. 

“Go ahead and set that on the bed.”

Duck does, turns to her, “Uh, no offense Mama, but I really need to go find ‘Drid. He was real upset and I got no idea where he is and it’s dark-”

Mama holds up a hand and he stops speaking immediately. 

“Ain’t the first time he’s done this. It’s his way of escapin from all them. He’ll come back.”

“But what if-”

“How about this: if he ain’t back by ten thirty, we’ll take my truck and go look for him.”

Duck looks at the clock. That’s nearly two hours from now. But Mama seems confident that Indrid is okay, and he’s inclined to trust her. 

“You got a deal.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, Duck, I ain’t sure how much you know. Indrid talk about me at all to you?”

“Uhhhh” Duck sorts through the conversations they’ve had about family, “You married into the family, but ‘Drid's aunt died in an accident. You keep visitin which, honestly, I got no idea why you’d wanna keep seein these folks if you didn’t have to. You live with a friend, that Thacker fella, and you’re the only relative ‘Drid seems to actually like.”

“That’s right. And that’s why I stay connected to the Colds. Indrid needs someone in his corner, and he needs someone from his family checkin' in on him. Speakin of which, maybe you can clear somethin up for me. See, he and I talk on the phone now and then. I know he’s got a close friend called Duck who he talks about all the time. And he’s got a boyfriend who he thinks hung the moon. But as far as I knew, those two fellas weren’t the same person.” Mama levels him with an inquisitive gaze, “What happened?”

“Uh, I, uh, don’t know, uh, fuck, uh, he’s, I’m-”

“He wasn’t kiddin about you bein’ a shit liar.”

“Fuck.” Duck groans. 

“Wanna try that again?”

Take flops down into the nearby chair, let’s Butch onto his lap with an “oof”, and tells the truth.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid creeps into the house at 10:15, much calmer but no less afraid. 

“Howdy, my little black sheep.”

“Eeeeeep.” He hisses, slapping his hands over his mouth. Mama is leaning against the entrance to the hallway where they have the guest rooms and the study. She opens her arms and Indrid hugs her once his fight or flight reflex shuts off. 

“How’d you know when I’d be back?”

“You been sneakin' in after your folks go to bed at 10 to avoid them since you were a teenager.”

“True. My father didn’t say you were coming.”

“I swear that man’s got some kind of weird power game he’s playin' around information.”

Indrid nods against her flannel shirt. 

“Guessin he didn’t mention they’re still havin that big holiday shindig of theirs tomorrow, either.”

“Of course not. That would have allowed Duck and myself to pack properly so as to not be embarrassed by being under-dressed.”

“Well, if you and your beau wanna sneak out of here early and head home, you certainly got my blessin. But, seems to me there could be some fun to be had showin off your boyfriend at that party. Lord knows they can’t pull the ‘you’re jeoparizin your college fund’ gambit anymore.”

“You make a convincing argument. _If_ Duck were actually my boyfriend.”

Mama steps back, but keeps her hands on his shoulders, “Duck helped me unpack, and take Butch for a walk, and all the time he was talkin about how he thought you were the most amazin man in the world, that he’s head over heels for you. Sounds like a boyfriend to me.”

Maybw Duck _can_ lie. Who knew?

“Now, you go on and get to bed.”

“I can’t. I mean, Duck is still here, right, so that-”

“Yep, and he's worried sick about you. So,” she shoos him towards the stairs, “get.”

Indrid doesn’t see the point in arguing. Besides, he can’t avoid Duck forever. 

When he opens the bedroom door, Duck is aimlessly poking at his phone. He drops the device and clambers off the bed as soon as Indrid is all the way in the room. 

“Thank fuckin god, I was so fuckin worried about you.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Duck. I didn’t mean to worry you.” He slumps onto the bed, refusing to meet Duck's eyes.

“It’s okay, just, just promise me you’ll give a guy a bit of warnin next time. I’m fine if you need to cool off or have some time alone, but you disappearin makes me feel like a boat that got cut loose from a dock durin a typhoon. And if,” he touches Indrid’s shoulder, and he pulls taught, ready to dive out of the way of his own oncoming feelings, “if I fucked up somehow, please tell me, okay? I wanna do right by you.”

Rather than being able to dodge them, Indrid’s feelings hit him like a snowball. He curls in on himself, shaking with the effort of holding back his tears, “It’s, it’s, you didn’t, at dinner-”

“Shit, ‘Drid, I’m sorry, that was outta line of me to argue with your folks but I can’t, I couldn’t sit there and let ‘em talk to you like that. I know you got your reasons for not speakin up, but you don’t deserve to have no one takin your side.”

“It’s not that. I can’t, Duck, how could you say those things about me knowing full well we aren’t together? And to Mama too? Do you have any idea how badly I’ve wanted to believe you feel that way about me? This is the most wanted I’ve felt in months and I know it was all lies.” He buries his face in his hands, glasses denting his skin. 

“Hey, goofus.” Duck nudges him until he looks up, “you’re forgettin the part where I can’t lie.”

The gears of the world grind to a halt, and in a frozen moment in time Indrid processes a dozen realizations at once.

“You do like me.” He whispers. 

“No shit, darlin. Indrid, I’ve been into you for months, but I didn’t wanna push you away by tellin you and makin' you uncomfortable. I meant every goddamn word I said, and that all barely scratches the surface of how bad I want youMOphhhm.”

Kissing Duck is a hundred times better than he ever imagined, the two of them tangled up before they even fall fully backwards. Warm fingers tangle in his hair and Duck whimpers beneath him, arching frantically into Indrids touch.

“Fuck me.” Duck pants when Indrid lets him breathe. 

“Not here. No way. I, I think we should go somewhere else, somewhere that’s truly private.”

“It was an exclamation goofus, this room is a boner killer if there ever was one. But yeah, gettin gone sounds real fuckin good to me.”

Indrid trails a finger along Ducks cheek, Duck turning into the touch to kiss his hand.

“Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless you feel like getting a bit of payback on my family first.”

Duck grins, crooked smile unendingly tempting. Indrid kisses it inch by inch, to give Duck ample time to think. Firm, strong hands skate up his hips and across his ass as Duck mumbles, “hell yeah I do.”

\---------------------------------------------

Duck wakes up the next morning with pale hair tickling his nose. Indrid’s head is resting on his chest and the thinner manner is sleepily planting kisses and nuzzles along his collarbone.

“Mornin, sugar.” 

“Good morning” Indrid crawls up to kiss him full on, humming when Duck reciprocates, stroking his hair as he cups his head. 

“Shall we venture forth for breakfast?”

“Dunno, pretty comfy right now.” Duck tilts his hips up, to see what happens. 

Indrid whines, wiggles, and then growls, “Careful, the more you wind me up while we’re unable to indulge ourselves, the harder I will pay you back when I finally get you alone.”

“Think that might be the shittiest threat I ever heard.” Duck teases, kissing his cheek and rolling his hips slowly. Indrid shivers, and something dark flickers in his smile. Then he tugs a hand through Duck’s hair. 

“It wasn’t a threat, Duck, it was a promise.”

With that, he tugs on his hair once more and then rolls out of bed. If he takes a little longer than normal in the shower, Duck doesn't mention it. Because it gives Duck time to do with the situation in his boxers. 

Clean and dressed, they meet Mama downstairs and climb into the truck, Butch in tow. The outdoor mall is just as gratingly cheery as it was two days ago, but Duck is too busy cuddling up with his Indrid to be annoyed. Mama teases them gently now and then, but otherwise gives them space to be mushy (and pays for more than a few of the things they need for the party). 

They’re snuggled on a park bench, Indrid sipping an eggnog latte and Duck warming his hands on his coffee cup, when Duck spies something in a tinsel-strewn window. 

“Hey, ‘Drid, think I just found the last piece of your outfit for tonight.”

Indrid follows his gaze, and then smiles, “Oh, that will be perfect.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Duck adjusts his tie (white, pink, and blue, of course) in the mirror. He’s gone with grey slacks and a black button-up, though on Mama’s suggestion he’s still wearing his black vans (a holdover from his burn-out days).

“Well, we’ll certainly draw attention.” Indrid steps from the bathroom, battered Converse on his feet, black slacks showing off his long legs and, as the icing on the cake, the pink and yellow pinstriped shirt Duck bought him this afternoon.

“No kiddin.” Duck straightens Indrid’s collar, “You look damn good.”

“I meant everyone will be enjoying the way your shirt accentuates your muscles.”

“It ain’t too tight, right?” Duck looks back in the mirror, worried. 

“On the contrary, it fits wonderfully. Though I imagine it will be very easy to tear off of you later on.”

“Guh.” Is all Duck manages as Indrid kisses the top of his head. His boyfriend smirks, offers his arm. Duck takes it, and they head down into the clamor of Christmas carols and well-dressed guests. 

Just as they reach the larger living room that Mrs. Cold spent all day ordering people to rearrange, Mr. Cold bars their way.

“Indrid, you are both to be on your best behavior. You know many of the guests are important business contacts. There is not to be any inappropriate, public displays of affection.”

“Aw, not even kissin under the mistletoe?” Duck attempts his best grin, the one that works on his own mom thirty percent of the time. 

“...Very well. But only under the mistletoe.” He turns on his heel.

“Challenge accepted.” Indrid murmurs. 

Duck spots the mistletoe hanging in the other doorway, the one leading to a back hall of the house. Indrid grabs a plate from the buffet table (buffet is a generous word for what’s essentially a spread of caviar, crackers, and some fruit) and fills it, while Duck grabs a glass of champagne for himself and sparkling apple cider for his boyfriend.

Mama nods at them from her seat by the fireplace, where she’s holding court with a young woman with a blue undercut that was definitely dragged there by her parents and an older woman in the bird of paradise colored clothing worn by women who are well past giving a shit about public opinion.

They take the long way to join them, a way that, coincidentally, lets them pause to kiss under the mistletoe. 

“Now, the thing about runnin a hotel-ah, this was the nephew I was tellin you about. Damn good artist. Don’t got half bad taste in men either.” Mama winks at them and Duck tries not to turn too red. 

“Really?” The younger woman perks up, “what kind of art?”

As Indrid explains the finer points of his work, Duck holds his hand or his glass, glows with pride when Indrid describes his or Duck's own accomplishments, and steals kisses when others in the group are speaking. 

“Ahem” Brad stands, arms-crossed, next to what must be his girlfriend, a woman whose blonde hair is pulled into a tight bun, “I know father told you not to kiss any where but under the mistletoe.”

Indrid glances behind them, then back at his brother, shocked, “Goodness, I thought that was mistletoe.” 

“It’s a pine garland. Doesn’t your tree-climbing ‘boyfriend’ know that?”

Duck shrugs, “Don’t specialize in conifers.”

“Maybe if you wore normal glasses you could see what it was.”

Indrid’s hand immediately goes to fidget with his glasses frame, smile fading as he does. 

“Ain’t nothin wrong with red glasses. I think they’re stylish.”

“There _isn’t_ anything wrong, you mean.” The young woman sniffs, “you wouldn’t want to sound uneducated in this kind of company.”

“And you wouldn’t wanna come across as the kind of young lady who’s rude enough to comment on someone else's manner of speech.” Mama sips her drink. 

“Betty is just trying to help, Aunt Madeline--Indrid, seriously?” Brad growls as Indrid pulls Duck by his tie into a heated kiss.

“Hmmm? Oh, oh dear, that isn’t mistletoe either, is it.”

“Nope, that’s a chandelier, darlin.”

“Ah, an easy mistake to make.”

Over the next hour, Indrid and Duck mistake many things for mistletoe, including the Christmas tree, a pair of red and green earrings, and the reflection of the real mistletoe in the window. Their handsyness grows along with their confidence, Duck dipping his hands into Indrids front pockets while hugging him from behind, teasing his fingers into the crease of his hip and thigh just to hear the gasp he gets in return. Indrid sneaking a hand into Ducks back pocket or purring out frankly surprising filth into his ear. 

It may not be his most generous instinct, but Duck enjoys watching the other Colds squirm, unwilling to make a scene with the increasingly bold Indrid. He’s watched his boyfriend shrink and shy and shift uncomfortably for the last three days; it only seems fair that the others get to do the same. 

Eventually, the small, hired band moves to slower songs, and Duck pauses his goofing to take Indrids hand and join the other couples swaying to “I’d Like You for Christmas.”

“Hope you know you’re the only fella who could get me to dance in public.”

“And you’re the only ‘fella’ who could make me want to do so in the first place.”

For a few bars, they simply hold each other, Duck contemplating if resting his head on Indrid’s shoulder is worth losing to view of the content, handsome look on his face. 

“Duck?”

“Yeah, ‘Drid?”

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

Duck chuckles, “That seems kinda settled at this point, given that Mama keeps introducin us that way.”

Indrid whispers, “Assuming my place in other’s lives has come back to hurt me in the past. And I don’t want to think you’re more attached to me than you are, or put you in a difficult position. You don’t have to answer now, but, just, please-”

Duck cups Indrids cheek in his right hand, “Indrid Cold, I’d be fuckin' delighted to be your boyfriend.”

He gets a half-second glimpse of a starbright smile, and then Indrid is kissing him so deeply, so gratefully, that he forgets his own name. All he knows is Indrid is his, and he is Indrids. 

“Enough of this game, Indrid.” Mr. Cold taps his foot impatiently, “I am waiting for an apology for your gross misbehavior.”

“I hardly think kissing my boyfriend counts as that, given that plenty of other couples have done the same here tonight.”

“I made my rules perfectly clear, and if you insist on breaking them I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Indrid forgoes his usual slight slouch to stare down his father, “You barely speak to me, and you cut me off years ago. How was it you put it again? Oh, yes, I was to ‘do as you’re told or starve.”

There are murmurs from the party goers, many looking askance at Mr.Cold.

“That’s, that’s not true in the slightest.”

“Apologize to your father this instant.” Mrs. Cold is a hair-fracture away from turning livid. 

Indrid takes a deep breath.

“No.”

Both parents speak at once, but Duck can’t parse the words as Indrid guides him towards the door, calling over his shoulder, “We’re going, I’d say it has been nice but it hasn’t.” They do, of course, wave goodbye to Mama, who grins and raises her glass. 

Then the foggy night air is on their cheeks as they dash to the car, Indrid cackling the whole way.

“Goodness, they’ll be dealing with that social blow for months.”

“Serves ‘em right, and thank fuck you said we oughta pack the car earlier today, because my vote is we get the hell outta here.”

“Agreed.” Indrid turns the key, then frowns as he picks up a white envelope from the center console, opening it like it might explode at any moment.

“What’s--holy _shit_.” Duck stares at the money in the envelope. Attached to the top bill is a sticky note.

_Get yourselves something nice._

_-Love, Mama_

“Well, I was about to say there was a Motel 6 at the edge of town, but this opens up some more interesting possibilities.” 

“Yep.” Duck grabs his phone as the car pulls out of the driveway and onto the road, lit only by Christmas lights on nearby houses, “How fancy do you want it to be?”

Indrid taps the steering wheel, and his smile is just as wonderful in profile, “You pick. I don’t care where we go. As long as I’m with you, I’m sure it will be perfect.”


	3. The Afterparty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid and Duck make good use of Mama's present.

The desk clerk at the Plaza Hotel has seen some odd sights. Christmas time is the worst, older folks too-drunk in ugly sweaters, people trying for romantic getaways and having passive aggressive, cheerful fights instead. 

So at least these weirdos are happy. And polite. 

The taller one, in red glasses and a brightly colored shirt, smiles a little too wide when he asks for the nicest room they have. The shorter man has a confident drawl, right up until the other whispers something in his ear, at which point he fumbles the envelope full of cash in his hand spectacularly. 

“Uh, keep, keep the change as a tip for workin the late shift, uh, thanks-” He calls as the taller man practically drags him towards the elevators. 

She does the math: her tip is a hundred bucks. 

Yeah, those weirdos are alright.

\---------------------------------------------------

Indrid is still giggling in excitement when he shuts and bolts the suite door. 

“Fuckin _finally_.” Duck growls, slamming him against the door as he kisses him. Indrid luxuriates in the sheer force of the _want_ coming from his boyfriend, of the way he pants and grips and kisses like Indrid is all he’s ever cared about. 

Then he spins him in an embrace, pinning him against the door.

“ _Shhhhit_ , fuck, always, always assumed you were subby, guess I was wr-OHoh fuck, ‘Drid.”

Indrid grins as he teases Ducks dick through his pants, pressing harder each time he moans “I often am. But there's something about you, Duck, you make me feel so safe, so confident, it makes me want to do so many wonderful, terrible things to you.”

Duck’s eyes take on a strange glint, mouth parting plaintively before he whispers, “Anythin, ‘Drid, anythin you wanna do I’ll do. God, sugar, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Be that as it may” Indrid purrs, trailing a finger along Ducks lower lip, conjuring a thousand images of what he could do with that perfect mouth, “If there’s something you truly don’t want, I’m trusting you to tell me. You’re so dear to me, Duck, and I want you to feel amazing.”

Duck smiles, soft and shy, and leans in for a gentle kiss. Indrid pauses his pawing, cups the shorter mans cheeks. Of all their flirtation over the last day, this is somehow the sexiest, the one that solidifies his determination to ruin and spoil Duck in equal measure. 

“Please, darlin, don’t make me wait any more.”

“In that case” Indrid winds his fingers in Ducks tie, “on your knees.”

He yanks and Duck drops, patting Indrid's pockets, “Where are, hah, there they are.”

“I think that Walgreens stop was worth it.” Indrid grins as Duck pulls the condom from his pocket.

“Uh huh.” Duck is panting, fingers managing only Indrid’s zipper before they’re shaking, getting the condom on taking a herculean amount of effort. 

Indrid takes his hands, dipping his head to kiss each in turn before resting them on his hips. 

“Keep your hands there.”

Duck’s eyes widen, and he rests the back of his head against the door. The expression of pure love and lust on his face makes Indrid's knees wobble. He nudges the head of his cock against Ducks mouth, holds his head back by his hair so all he can do is lap at it messily. 

“You, oh goodness, if you want this, you have to answer a question.”

“Shoot.” Duck murmurs, tonguing the tip.

“Did you ever fantasize about this?”

“You ain’t guessed the answe-AH” Duck winces and then moans when Indrid tugs his hair, “Yes, fuck, so much.”

“How much?”

“Every, every fuckin time I could hear you through the wall.”

“Oh dear, I thought I was being quiet.” Indrid blushes.

“Nope” Duck chuckles, “Could tell you were tryin, but that’s an old-ass buildin.”

“Sorry.” 

“I forgive you.” Duck’s smile is pornographic.

“Mmmm, how kind.” Indrid strokes his hair, “Now, show me what you imagined.” He releases his head and Duck dives forward, Indrid’s cock sliding into his mouth with ease. It’s warm, wet, and he’s wanted it for so long that he braces his forearm on the door so he can rest his head against it.

“Yes, oh yes, Duck, sweetheart, that’s so good.”

Duck gives a pleased whine in response, pulling back to suck deliberately at the head. His hands stay obediently in place on Indrid’s hips, though they flex and clench as Indrid tests out different movements. 

“I f-fantasized about this as well. I, you’d talk about dates and I’d imagine myself in their place, cock down your throat or head between your legs, goodness, I do wish you’d brought the strap on, I want to know what it’s like for you to fuck me until I scream.”

Duck groans, thunking his head back against the wall, and as the sound dies down Indrid feels him relax, and it seems like an invitation. He recalls the one time he walked in on Duck watching porn (he got slightly better about knocking after that. Slightly).

“Would you like me to face fuck you, my darling?” The endearment sounds odd in his voice rather than Duck's accent, but Duck smiles when he says it. Nods, eyes locked on Indrid’s own the entire time. 

Indrid glides his other hand behind Ducks head to cushion it, “Take your hands off my hips if it becomes too much.”

Duck gasps on the first thrust just as Indrid moans. It takes several tries to find his depth and his rhythm, Duck's hips twitching in the air as he does. He’s afraid of hurting his boyfriend, but always been on the smaller side and this time that works in his favor because it means his cock fits perfectly in Ducks mouth. When he gains speed, Duck moans, sucking even as he rests his head in Indrid's hand. 

“That’s it, that’s incredible, oh Duck, oh your mouth was just _made_ for me to fuck it, yes, sweetheart, oh goodness, yes, please, just a little more.” He jams his hips forward, Duck giving a garbled yelp from the force of the motion, and cums. 

Ducks hands draw up and down his thighs as they untense, and he manages to just barely pull out before collapsing onto the floor and into his boyfriend’s waiting embrace. For a moment, all he can hear are their heartbeats. 

“You make such a cute noise when you come.”

“Really? Derrick always said it was...silly.”

“Fuck that, and fuck him.”

Indrid snorts out a laugh at the blunt statement. 

“Too horny for subtlety, sugar.” Duck kisses his neck in soft little rows. 

“I don’t mind in the slightest. Mmmm” he nestles against a sturdy, familiar chest, “you are so magnificent.”

“How much of that is the blow job talkin?”

“A minimal amount. Speaking of which…” He reaches between them, thumbing at the damp fabric of Duck’s slacks, “You’re still very hard and I very much want to take care of that for you.”

“Fuck, ‘Drid, please.”

“There’s no way I can get it up again just yet, but, ah, I have many other appendages that can do the job.”

“You know that makes you sound like you got tentacles or some shit, right?” Duck undoes his pants and yanks them off. But before he can stand, Indrid grabs him, rolling so that Ducks comforting weight settles atop him. He wrestles with his shirt, Duck hindering his progress with a flurry of kisses.

“I don’t have tentacles--oh, don’t look so disappointed” he grins and Duck flips him the bird. He kisses the offending middle finger before drawing it into his mouth, “but I am rather good with my tongue.”

“Oh hell yeah.” Duck rips his boxers off (literally, the old, thin fabric tearing when it becomes trapped between Duck’s leg and Indrid's stomach). Indrid takes his glasses and pushes them across the floor, out of harms way. Duck clambers up him, stopping with his knees bracketing his neck.

“You’re so fuckin handsome.”

“Thank you.” Indrid murmurs.

“Gonna look even better with my dick in your mouth.”

“Prove it.” Indrid parts his lips as Duck adjusts. Curves and drags his tongue across his folds while his hands squeeze and caress Ducks ass. 

“Fuck, oh yeah, I was right. You look so goddamn good like this, sugar.”

Indrid purrs, which sends Duck’s hips bucking forward.

“C’mon, darlin, show off of for meohhhh _fuck_.” Duck grins down against him, drags slick along Indrid's mouth and chin as he jerks his hips. Indrid sucks and licks and purrs, focus narrowing down to Duck, to the taught muscles under his fingers, the on his lips, the way Ducks voice grows rougher as his movements quicken.

“Yeah, shit, suck my dick sugar, fuck, I been wound up for days, wanna come in that fuckin amazin mouth, gonna make up for every night you shoulda been suckin me off, c’mon, like that, ‘Drid, fuck _fuck_.” He doubles over, gasping, as Indrid ceases sucking and turns his head to kiss his inner thigh, mumbling nonsense sweet nothings into the sweat-tinged skin. 

“‘Drid.” It’s as quiet as a confession, flitting out of his mouth as he flops off of him, still panting, eyes sparkling in the dark room.

“I’m right here, Duck.”

“I know” there’s that crooked smile, the one Indrid will never cease loving, “Just, just liked bein’ able to say it, like that.”

Indrid wipes his mouth, mirrors Duck as he sits up, “I like it as well.” He brushes their noses together, humming happily. 

“Heh.”

“What?”

“We shelled out for a fancy room and didn’t even make it to the bed.”

Indrid smirks, “You really _were_ distracted when I asked her to book us a room.”

Duck raises an eyebrow.

“We paid for two nights. And if what we just did was any indication, I sense we’ll be getting out moneys worth.”

“You clever fucker.” Duck kisses him hungrily, breaks away to yawn, and then kisses him for a solid minute more, gradually settling in his lap. 

“Sure you ain’t in a hurry to go home?” He jokes quietly. 

Indrid smiles, wraps his arms around his boyfriend, “I’m with you, Duck. I’m already home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Candlenights, everyone.


End file.
